


Don't Shake the Detective Prince

by tobiyos



Series: Four Idiots Buying Mugs at the Dollar Store [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Metaverse (Persona 5), First Dates, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content, akechi is flirty in his detective prince persona and i will die on this hill, side shukita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:16:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27646714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobiyos/pseuds/tobiyos
Summary: Ryuji doesn’t really like Akechi.Yeah, yeah, he doesn’t actually know the guy, but Sojiro has the TV on constantly when they’re working the shop, and literally every time Akechi’s face pops up on some stupid ass interview show, Ryuji begs Akira to change the channel. He never does. So, Ryuji gets to listen to him prattle about being a genius or whatever, and now he’s actually in the shop and Ryuji… kind of wants to fuck with him.Akechi is so damn polite. He wonders what it takes to break the little good boy act.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira
Series: Four Idiots Buying Mugs at the Dollar Store [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026837
Comments: 17
Kudos: 117





	Don't Shake the Detective Prince

**Author's Note:**

> HEHEHE This was so fun to write! I had this idea and I was like oh my god do you know who this would be perfect for? Ryuji and Goro. I have to. This! Was also written for the persona rarepair week on twitter (because if I'm not writing for a ship week who am I) Also, tell me why I saw the prompt and literally forgot most of the game takes place in a coffee shop. I was like uhhh where are they going to work? Like hey, Bunny? At Leblanc.
> 
> Persona Rarepair Week Day 2: Coffee Shop AU

Ryuji thinks his part time job at the coffee shop across town is kind of sweet.

Like, yeah, okay, he’s not a barista—that’s wholly on Akira, and his stupidly nimble hands—but he’s perfectly fine making the occasional plate of curry and wiping off tables between the few and far between customers that come trickling in. (He doesn’t really know how Sojiro manages to pay two whole part timers when there’s so little foot traffic in Leblanc, but the only time he’d asked Sojiro had looked at him over his glasses and said “What are you, my accountant?” and Ryuji hadn’t really wanted to bring it up again.)

But the hours are flexible, and he managed to bag a roommate out of it a year or so back, since Akira had been fond enough of him to bring up renting an apartment together, even when Ryuji breaks his biweekly plate on the floor. They make it work. He loves it here.

What he isn’t expecting is Goro Akechi.

Akira’s out for the time being, his apron hung on the refrigerator handle as he had told Ryuji he had some deliveries to pick up for Sojiro, and Ryuji thinks it’s fine if he has to watch the store himself, because it’s a Tuesday morning, and really, who the fuck goes to a random out of the way coffee shop at nine a.m. on a Tuesday? The answer to this question Ryuji _didn’t really ask_ , is apparently TV and internet personality Goro Akechi, who comes breezing in to the café around ten, toting a briefcase and a disarming smile.

“What the fuck,” Ryuji says under his breath, rocking back on his heels. Goro Akechi, famous amateur detective and owner of _literally_ the bougiest food blog Ryuji has ever had the displeasure of stumbling upon, glances around Leblanc with a small, secretive smile on his face, before he locks eyes with Ryuji.

“Hello,” Akechi says pleasantly, not moving from his spot at the door.

“Uh, hi?” Ryuji says back.

Akechi walking towards the counter leaves Ryuji very nervous for several reasons that becomes very clear very fast.

  1. He’s kind of D-list, but he’s a public personality, and Ryuji is stood at the counter in a pair of sweatpants that probably smell like bleach and turmeric
  2. Akechi conversely looks like he just walked straight out of a fashion magazine but for, like, old people who complain about young people’s fashion, dolled up in a comfortable looking sweater and crisp pants
  3. Akechi runs a _food blog._ A popular one. And he is here, in the restaurant/coffee shop that Ryuji works at _in_ said bleach and turmeric scented sweatpants, which is also a problem because—
  4. Ryuji does not know how to make coffee.



It’s kind of insane, he knows, for a guy to work at a coffee shop for years and never actually learn how to make it. He’s never been big on their drinks in the first place—he thinks the coffee is too bitter, and the tea Sojiro serves is too sweet—so when he’d taken the job half out of desperation to cover university expenses, he’d kind of resigned himself to snorting at Akira’s lazy coffee art and cleaning the floor. He doesn’t know how the machines work, he doesn’t even know what shit is _what_ because nothing is labelled as apparently Sojiro and Akira have both been at this for years, and Ryuji doesn’t touch most of the equipment and supplies unless he’s wiping them down.

He realizes he’s staring as Akechi props himself up at the counter, his briefcase going to the seat next to him, which Ryuji would think rude if Leblanc even _looked_ like it got more than three people in and out of the door on a good day.

“Uh,” Ryuji says, very eloquently. “W-what can I get for you?”

Akechi props his chin up on his arm, leaning over the counter with a glance at the wall behind where Ryuji is standing. Ryuji knows there are dozens of containers of varying coffee beans, but he doesn’t know what any of them _are,_ or what they mean, and his palms are starting to sweat against his innocuous green apron.

Akechi hums like he’s very seriously considering the answer to this question, before his gaze flicks over Ryuji’s form like he’s trying to get a handle on his fashion choices. “What’s good?” He asks.

 _Coffee_ , Ryuji thinks. “Uh,” he says, out loud.

This is the worst day of his life. If it was just some regular, they’d walk in and take one look at Ryuji behind the bar and instantly know that they weren’t getting anything _fancy_ out of him. Goro Akechi, however, in his stupid clean pants and his soft looking cardigan is making Ryuji feel like he’s being goaded into making a mistake.

Because here’s the thing.

Ryuji doesn’t really like Akechi.

Yeah, yeah, he doesn’t actually _know_ the guy, but Sojiro has the TV on constantly when they’re working the shop, and literally every time Akechi’s face pups up on some stupid ass interview show, Ryuji _begs_ Akira to change the channel. He never does. So, Ryuji gets to listen to him prattle about being a _genius_ or whatever, and now he’s actually in the shop and Ryuji kind of wants to know... What does it take to shake the detective prince?

He realizes he hasn’t been talking with a jolt, eyes snapping to Akechi’s in his panic. And _wow_ , okay, Akechi has really pretty eyes. Like _unfairly_ pretty eyes. Ryuji doesn’t ever think he’s seen someone with red eyes this vibrant, framed by short, light colored eyelashes, and Ryuji realizes he’s _still_ staring.

“What are you in the mood for?” he blurts, voice high and flighty. Oh my god. Ryuji hasn’t had this much trouble operating around pretty boys since high school—for fucks sake he _works_ with Akira, and between his messy black hair and dismissive tone, Ryuji is _constantly_ trying to get a handle on How To Talk To The Pretty Boy on a daily basis.

Goro hums again and glances around at the books stacked up on the counter, the TV muted in the corner. “I’m not sure,” he confesses, looking back at Ryuji. Something about his stare makes Ryuji feel warm under the collar, like he’s at a fucking job interview. “My colleague told me about this place, and I happened to be in the area.” His smile takes on a playful kind of edge that makes Ryuji blush. What is _with_ this guy? “I assume you’re not the Sakura-san she mentioned though.” His eyes track down Ryuji’s body again, and feels _very_ different from the first time he gave Ryuji a once over. It takes literally every atom in Ryuji not to shy away or scream at the top of his lungs. He’s not sure which would be better. “Unless time has treated you _very_ well.”

Something in Ryuji’s brain shuts down. Like full reboot, ready for updates, _Error: Ryuji Sakamoto has stopped working_ shuts down. Is Akechi _flirting_ with him?

“Um,” Ryuji laughs, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “Nah, I’m just one of his part timers. Sojiro doesn’t come around every day, too busy doing, like, retirement lite.”

Akechi laughs like Ryuji has just said something funny and endearing instead of just the random shit that comes to his head, and it makes him flush _harder_ because stupid gay brain just knows that the pretty boy is laughing at his jokes.

“Well, if you’re under Sakura-san’s care, I’m sure I’m in good hands.”

“R-right,” Ryuji says, wringing his hands under the counter. He is now unsure if this is the worst or the best thing to happen to him, but he does know that he is going to end up making coffee for Akechi, and he needs to figure out how _fast_.

“Um… you seem like a…” Think, Ryuji. Goro seems… weirdly similar to Akira ( _No he doesn’t_ , his brain hisses, _you just think that because the only other person your age you know is Yusuke, and he hates coffee just as much as you do)_ so maybe Ryuji should just make him what Akira likes. “A dark roast kinda guy,” he says, mentally patting himself on the back.

Akechi raises an eyebrow. “A dark roast, huh? By all means.”

A dark roast. A dark… roast? Ryuji can do that. He just has to—

He turns towards the looming walls of coffee beans and feels something like his heart collapsing in on itself.

Very carefully, and with an air of confidence he’d be proud of if he weren’t so panicked, Ryuji somehow manages to scrape together a cup of… something. It _smells_ like coffee, even if it’s a bit more… earthy than Ryuji would have expected, and the machine doesn’t seem to be broken, so really, he counts this as a total success.

Goro watches him as he works, tossing random things in to maybe cover the taste. There’s an old woman that comes in and always orders cinnamon mixed in with her creamer, so Ryuji dumps some pungent smelling powder in Goro’s cup and stirs in creamer afterwards, watching the blend turn a brown only a little darker than Goro’s hair.

“Here you go!” he says with a smile, sliding the drink across the table.

“Thank you,” Goro says brightly, taking the cup in his hands. Ryuji is preening at his success when Goro starts to cough.

“Woah!” Ryuji says, glancing around like he’s worried someone will see that he just made a borderline celebrity cough with his shitty coffee. “A-are you all right, man?”

“Fine,” Akechi croaks, covering his hand with his mouth. “Sorry, that um… well, the flavor wasn’t exactly what I expected.”

Ryuji leans back and pulls his lip between his teeth. “My bad,” he says quietly. He can’t even bring himself to look at Akechi right now, not when he’s probably dying from Ryuji’s _shit_ coffee making abilities. “I can make you something else? Or get you some water?”

Akechi looks at him with bright, wide open eyes, before he shakes his head. Something seems to pass over his face, resolute and firm. It’s gone just as soon as Ryuji noticed it. “No, it’s,” he clears his throat, “it’s fine.” Ryuji feels his heartrate pick back up when Akechi smiles at him. “Like I said, I just didn’t expect it. It’s… good.”

“Really?” Ryuji asks, leaning over the counter. There’s a big, goofy grin breaking across his face, but it’s worth it if Akechi _really_ likes his coffee. Akechi nods again.

Maybe Ryuji gave him too much shit. Akechi is only a year or so older than him and he’s a person too, after all. Like, yeah, he’s way too nice on TV for it to be real, but that doesn’t mean he’s a _complete_ dickhead. Now that he’s in the shop he just seems different. Less abrasively polite.

Goro makes small talk while he miraculously finishes his coffee, and waves off Ryuji’s other attempts to make him something else. Ryuji doesn’t run into people his age much in the store, so he’s secretly grateful from the company, especially when Goro says things that make his face hot.

Eventually, the bell over the door rings, and Akira comes back looking no worse for wear, holding a bag of ingredients Ryuji knows they need for Sojiro’s specialty curry recipe.

He pauses in the door though, when Akechi looks over his shoulder his way. “Goro?” Akira asks, waddling towards the counter. Ryuji scoops up the groceries and carries them into the kitchen to set on the small counter next to the refrigerator. “Something smells burnt,” he hears Akira say, just under his breath.

“Hello, Akira,” Ryuji hears Akechi say back, as he’s loading things into the refrigerator. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yes, you did,” Ryuji hears flatly. He can’t help himself snickering, just because Akira’s deadpan way of speaking always makes whatever he says sound dry and cutting. “I told you about my job last semester when you ambushed me after exams.”

Ryuji comes back to stand at Akira’s side as Akechi laughs. “You did? Well, forgive me, I do tend to let things slip my mind.”

“Uh huh,” Akira says.

“You guys know each other?” Ryuji asks, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Not really,” Akira says, at the same time Akechi laughs, “Of course!”

Akira leans his hip against the counter with a sigh. “I took some philosophy classes on a whim last year,” he gestures in Akechi’s smiling direction. “Everyone’s favorite detective prince seems to have had the same idea.”

Goro drums his fingers against the table and smirks. “Your input in class was invaluable.”

“Yours was annoying.”

Akechi laughs again, loud and half-forced. _This_ is the Akechi Ryuji remembers from the TV, the one who looks fake as shit at all times and is somehow more popular that Ryuji could even _dream._

Ryuji leans over and elbows Akira in the side. “Dude, Sojiro would kick your ass for talking to customers like that,” he whispers. A barely contained eyeroll passes over Akira’s face. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath.

“Well, gentlemen,” Akechi says, sliding from his chair and gathering his briefcase in his arms. He shoots Ryuji a smile that makes his stomach do a somersault. “I should be on my way, I’m afraid. Duty calls and all that.” His grin takes on an almost soft edge, startlingly genuine. “Ryuji, right? I’ll have to come back here sometime when you’re working. The atmosphere was _lovely_.”

With a wink that makes Ryuji’s palms sweat and a surprisingly graceful turn, Akechi struts out of Leblanc, and takes Ryuji’s air supply with him.

“Dude,” Ryuji says.

“Dude,” Akira sighs.

“I think Akechi was… flirting? With me?”

Akira huffs a laugh and wanders towards where his apron is still hanging on the refrigerator door. “Duh, Ryu. He was making googly eyes at you the entire time I was unfortunately present.”

Ryuji bounces on his toes. “And he’s… really cute? I think? I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“Please tell me you don’t have a crush on _Goro Akechi_ ,” Akira says from the kitchen.

“I mean,” Ryuji murmurs. “I don’t _not_ have crush on him.”

“Jesus christ,” Akira sighs. He comes back out and leans against the counter, fixing Ryuji with a very pointed stare. “Listen to me,” he huffs. “Akechi is literally the wackiest person I know. And not in a fun way. That dude is nice as hell to your face and then goes behind your back before he rips your head off. We _do not_ fuck with Goro.”

“But,” Ryuji pouts. “He said he liked my coffee.”

“He _what_?” Akira asks. He sniffs the air, once, like a dog, and then whips around. “Please tell me that burning smell is not the leftovers of whatever you made Goro drink.”

“Burning smell?”

Akira blinks at him from half underneath his hair. “Ryuji,” he says, very slowly. “I am going to ask you to make me _exactly_ what you made Goro, okay?”

Ryuji nods and sets about fixing _another_ one of the drinks he made for Akechi, crushing the coffee beans and ignoring pointed winces from Akira’s direction, but he lets Ryuji work in silence, watching over his shoulder to make sure he doesn’t set the machine on fire.

“Tah-dah,” Ryuji says, offering the cup of coffee to Akira. Hesitantly, Akira takes it from his hands, and lifts it towards his nose to sniff it.

“Oh my god,” he wheezes.

“What?” Ryuji asks. He watches Akira take a sip, and his face crumbles. “ _What?_ ”

“This is one of the worst things I have ever tasted.”

It is now Ryuji’s turn to croak, “Oh my god.”

Akira takes another small, hesitant sip. “It’s like… burnt. Like super ultra burnt, and—” he takes another sip. “Is that nutmeg?”

Ryuji frowns. “What? No, man! It’s cinnamon! Like that old lady who comes in here always asks for.”

Akira takes another sip, and coughs into the crook of his arm. “Dude, this is definitely nutmeg.”

Akira reaches around on the counter and pulls out another, similar looking and _also_ unmarked container, and Ryuji feels himself blanch. “The cinnamon is darker,” Akira coughs, apparently still trying to catch his breath from the _nightmare_ Ryuji made him drink.

“Akechi didn’t say anything,” Ryuji gasps, hands coming up to cover his face. Akira pats at his back. “Oh my god, why didn’t he _say_ anything.”

“There there,” Akira says. “I’m kind of surprised. Goro is very vocal about his distaste in most situations.”

Ryuji groans. “I was so happy when he said he liked it.”

Another pat at his back. “You’re also very cute when you’re earnest.”

“He’s going to leave us a horrible review on his food blog, and I’ll be the reason Sojiro has to shut down the shop, man!” He peeks through his fingers to Akira affectionately rolling his eyes.

“Leblanc isn’t going down that easy, Ryu. Breathe.”

He tries, but every inhale brings with it the lingering taste of _burnt coffee._ “This is the end of my life,” he croaks. “I thought you said he was two faced! He genuinely just…” Akechi’s eyes come to mind, the little curls at the edge of his mouth when he smiles. “He just seemed like a nice guy. Is he that nauseatingly polite that he doesn’t even correct someone for giving him burned coffee?”

“Maybe he is,” Akira tries. “I don’t really talk to him that often, so maybe I’m just biased. He _seemed_ to like you, weirdly. Akechi doesn’t like _anybody_ as far as I know.”

He _did_ seem to like Ryuji, even after the whole nutmeg-cinnamon slip up. Which, honestly, a normal person would have _said_ something about their drink being wrong, so he doesn’t get Akechi’s whole… deal. “I don’t get him.” Ryuji says.

Akira pats him on the back. “Few people do. Help me cut some stuff up so it’s ready the next time someone orders curry.”

“You sure I ain’t just gonna burn that too?” he mumbles, moving into the kitchen with a hand latched onto the back of Akira’s shirt.

Akira pats him on the back. “I’ve still got some faith left in you.”

\--

Ryuji comes up with a plan.

It is, admittedly, a kind of shitty plan. But most of Ryuji’s plans are shitty, and Akira approved this one with a thumbs up from the floor of their shared apartment, so really, it’s not his _worst_ plan.

He’s just gonna like… poison Akechi.

“Poison is too strong!” Ryuji corrects, smacking Akira across the arm.

He chuckles and leans back against the counter, with a glance thrown in Yusuke’s direction. “Sorry,” he corrects. “Ryuji is just going to make his coffee worse and worse until one of them breaks down.”

Yusuke glances down at his own cup of coffee anxiously. “I am… excluded from this experiment, correct?”

“Correct,” Akira says, leaning across the counter to press a wet kiss obnoxiously to Yusuke’s cheek. Ryuji makes a gagging noise.

“Gross, no PDA when boss ain’t here to yell at you about it.”

Akira presses another kiss to the side of Yusuke’s face that makes him grin happily. “If I’m not telling Sojiro you’re trying to sabotage his buisness, you can let me kiss my boyfriend in peace.”

Well, Akira has got him there.

Akechi hasn’t been back by Leblanc since that first time a few weeks back, and Ryuji is starting to think he’s never going to see him again, which would _suck_ when Ryuji has a genius two step plan worked out. Step one: He makes very bad coffee. Step two: he waits for Akechi to respond like a _normal_ person, so that Ryuji knows he as much of a human being as any other person on the planet. It’s foolproof. (It’s very stupid.)

He jerks his head up when the bell rings, avoiding the happy noises Yusuke makes as Akira presses more kisses to his face. “Afternoon—” he starts and feels his heart speed up when Akechi slips past the door, that same briefcase held in his hand again. “Akechi!” Ryuji says happily, and grins when Akira makes a half grossed out noise at his side.

“Hello,” Akechi says, moving towards the counter again. He sits a reasonable one chair distance away from Yusuke, who’s back to sipping daintily at his coffee and scrolling through something on his phone. “It’s good to see you, Ryuji.” His eyes flick to Ryuji’s side, his smile twitching. “Akira,” he says evenly.

“Goro,” Akira returns tightly. “What can we get you?”

“Oh,” Akechi says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I didn’t particularly come looking to get anything to drink. I told you both, I do enjoy the atmosphere here.”

Oh, Ryuji isn’t letting him get out of it that easily. “Dude,” he says gravely. “It’s a coffee shop. We gotta make you something.” Akechi seems to go through the five stages of grief all at once, his face crumpling as he stares down at his turned off phone. Ryuji thinks that step one of his _Shake the Detective Prince_ plan is much harder than it really should be, when Akechi’s shoulders slouch as he resigns himself to his fate, tucking his phone away again.

“Alright,” he says warily, before seemingly switching back to high energy and polite. “I’ll take a house recommendation.”

Ryuji is so excited he can barely contain himself. “Coming right up,” he says with a grin.

Akira begrudgingly agreed to show Ryuji how some of the coffee machines worked so that he could continue along his little plan, but under the pretense that if the Akechi situation happened again and a customer needed coffee when Akira was out, Ryuji would at least know the difference between the damn spices.

He works loud and jittery, chattering with Akira and Akechi as he works, trying to draw attention from just how much sugar he’s putting into the coffee. It’s starting to lighten like there’s _creamer_ in there, and Ryuji glances down at it. He feels a little sympathetic, but mostly, he just wants to see if this will push Goro over the edge.

“One Ryuji special for Prince Akechi,” he declares, setting the cup on the counter. Goro glances down at it, and then up at Ryuji’s face, his nose flaring slightly as he smiles. He watches giddily as Goro lifts the cup to his mouth, closer, closer, _closer_ —

“Oh!” Yusuke says suddenly, startling Goro into setting the cup back down on the counter. Ryuji swears quietly.

Yusuke reaches across the counter to take one of Akira’s hands where it’s leaned against the hard surface. “Our piece got accepted into the exhibition.”

Akira’s face twists as though he’s confused, before it breaks brilliantly into a smile. “Oh! The student one?”

“Yes,” Yusuke says, with a squeeze to Akira’s hand. “That’s the third one this month.”

“What exhibition?” Goro asks, and Ryuji bites his lip to keep from _begging_ Goro to try his poisoned, er, _modified_ coffee. “The one our school is offering?”

Akira nods. “Yusuke and I enter with joint pieces every semester.”

Goro’s head tips to the side. “I didn’t know you were an artist.”

“Oh,” Yusuke gasps, and Ryuji rolls his eyes. When Yusuke gets started on Akira’s art, there’s really no going back. “He’s a brilliant sculptor. Akira’s works capture the human physique, and mine the heart.”

“We’re perfect compliments,” Akira says happily, leaning over to nuzzle at Yusuke’s nose. Ryuji thinks they’re sweet, he really does, but he can see his own sentiment reflected in the clearly scandalized squint of Goro’s eyes.

“Well that’s… sweet.” Goro says carefully, throwing Ryuji a look that says _Are they serious?_

Ryuji snickers and nods. _Very serious._

“Hm,” Goro says, turning away from Ryuji’s eye with a smile. He picks the cup up again and lifts it to his mouth. “I’ll have to visit the exhibition to see what all the fuss is about.”

Ryuji is almost too enraptured in the conversation to notice when Goro takes his first sip of his drink. Almost.

He does much better than last time, truth be told, less coughing and sputtering. Though Nutmeg in coffee and an extra heaping of sugar do pull two very different reactions. This time, it’s Goro’s face twisting like he’s eaten a particularly sour candy, lips pressing together tightly as he freezes.

“Akechi?” Ryuji asks, feigning concern. “Is something wrong?”

Goro swallows and shakes his head. “No,” he says, trying to smile. “N-nothing is the matter.”

Ryuji can’t tell if he’s disappointed or entertained. He wonders if you can be both. Enterpointed. Disertained. Whatever.

“You know,” Goro says, thick around his obviously affected taste buds. He clears his throat and glances at Ryuji. “I’ve never actually been to an art exhibition for pleasure. I’m really too busy for the leisure time. I wonder if there’s anyone that would be willing to show me around…”

“Probably,” Ryuji says, shifting his weight onto the opposite leg. “I’m sure there’s some little art idiot that would love to drag you around and prattle about brush strokes or somethin’.”

He feels a kick at his leg, and looks up to see Akira staring at him. _What?_ He mouths. Akira rolls his eyes. _You_. He mouths back. Ryuji raises an eyebrow. Akira huffs.

“You know,” Akira says, a little loudly. “We get complimentary tickets for family and friends. Ryuji usually gets one of mine.” He makes a grumbling noise. “I could give you the other, Goro.”

 _O_ h. _Oh!_ “Y-yeah!” Ryuji says, standing up straighter. He glances at Goro’s wide eyes. “I could be your idiot. I mean… I could show you around and stuff! I know all about brush strokes ‘n… whatever.”

“Are you sure?” Goro asks, glancing in Akira’s direction. “I’m perfectly capable of buying my own ticket.”

Akira fixes him with a withering look. “It’s not like my family even lives out here. I usually don’t use the complimentary tickets for anybody _except_ Ryuji, considering the only other person I talk to is Yusuke. And Ann,” he adds. “But she’s very adamant about ‘ _supporting the arts_.’”

“If you’re sure it’s okay,” Goro says slowly. He looks at Ryuji. “Yes, I think that sounds fun.” He laughs quietly. “I’d love to hear your opinion on ‘brushstrokes ‘n stuff.’”

Ryuji feels his face break out into a grin. “Great, man! Here, gimmie your number, I’ll text you deets.”

Goro hands his phone over with a smile, and Ryuji sticks his tongue out as he types his number into his contacts as _Rooji_ with a little yellow heart. “There!” he says, and hands his phone back to Goro. He flushes when their fingers brush, before realizing he’s acting like some blushing virgin.

Ugh. This wasn’t part of the two-step plan _either_.

\--

“Oh my god,” Ryuji says, halfway through locking the door to Leblanc.

“What?” Akira asks, tucked into a hoodie. He shoves his hands under his arms to keep him warm. “Did you leave something inside?”

Ryuji glances down at the key in the lock, and then back at Akira. “Akechi gave me his number.”

Akira blinks a few times, and then reaches his hands out from under his armpits to smack the back of Ryuji’s head. “You are denser than concrete,” he declares, over Ryuji’s claims of abuse. “Lock the fucking door, I’m freezing.”

\--

Akechi comes by Leblanc four more times in the next two weeks. Every time, he tries to avoid ordering coffee, and every time, Ryuji and Akira both manage to pressure him into getting some. They never make him pay. The coffee tastes horrible.

He never finishes a cup after that first day, but Ryuji doesn’t care, he just needs Goro to _say_ something about it. Instead, he just sips away at his very gross coffee and Akira looks like a kid in a candy store whenever he wanders in.

Ryuji starts texting him though. Not for long and usually not about anything important, but Goro is kind of funny when he’s not faking a smile, and he’s got the same dry wit that Akira has that makes Ryuji cackle into his empty bedroom when they’re talking.

And Ryuji kind of hates to admit it, but he’s starting to _like_ Akechi. Before he was just the pompous kid on TV that grated on Ryuji’s nerves, but now he gets excited to text him what item of his Mona knocked over and shattered today ( _It seems like Morgana is only knocking over_ your _belongings,_ Goro says once, over text. _That’s not a seems like, dude_ , Ryuji texts back. _That’s exactly what he’s doing_ ) and it’s just kind of _weird_. Akira ribs on him for crushing on his school’s resident pretty boy and Ryuji can’t even tell him he’s wrong because he’s not sure that _isn’t_ what he’s doing.

By the time Yusuke and Akira’s exhibit rolls around, Ryuji is less nervous to be meeting up with Goro more than the fact that he has to _meet up with Goro_.

“Is this a date?” Ryuji blurts.

Akira throws an unimpressed look over his shoulder and shrugs his jacket on over the smart little button up he’s wearing. “Why are you asking _me_?”

“Because! I can’t ask Akechi because if it’s _not_ that’s gonna make things weird and then he’ll—” _stop talking to me_ “—stop coming by Leblanc so I can fuck with him.”

Akira looks like he can absolutely see through Ryuji’s horseshit. “I’m not going to tell you to ask him if it’s a date because I know you’re not going to listen to me, so I am actually just going to say not to do anything stupid whilst _on_ your date. And feed Morgana before you leave.”

“Boo!” Ryuji shouts, arm thrown over the back of the couch. He gasps. “Wait! So you _do_ think it’s a date?” He is answered by the door to the apartment slamming shut. “Little drama queen,” Ryuji huffs, rocking onto his feet to go fill up Morgana’s little food bowl next to their refrigerator.

And it’s not a date. Ryuji can’t make himself think it’s a date because he is very sure that for it to count as an actual date, both people need to _know_ it’s a date, and… Akira is right. Ryuji is too chicken shit to ask Akechi.

Does he even _want_ it to be a date? Goro is kind of cool and all, sure, but Ryuji has very little experience in the whole dating department. He’s gone out with people a few times, but Akechi is _Akechi_. Ryuji can go on twitter right now and find at least 100 fan pages of people trying to get into his pants that aren’t also playing a game of ‘ _How many cups of gross coffee can I serve him before Goro gets a restraining order?_ ’

He fills Morgana’s food bowl and gets hissed at for the effort, sitting back down on the couch for the better part of an hour as he works up the courage to go drag Akechi around his best friend’s art exhibit. This would probably be easier with Akira and Yusuke by his side, but he knows they usually stay stationed at their own piece, listening to people talk about their art more than they float around. He should show Akechi around. Even if he knows jack shit about art.

_God,_ he thinks. When did his life become like this?

\--

“So. Art,” Ryuji says.

Akechi nods sagely at his side. “Yes. Art. It’s very… colorful.”

“And the brushstrokes?”

“Full of technique.”

Ryuji nods back. “Yes, I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Akira sighs.

Ryuji turns around. “Hey man! We were discussing… uh…” he looks to Akechi at his side.

Fully serious, Akechi deadpans, “The intricacies of this artist’s brushstrokes.” Ryuji bites his lips to keep down a bark of laughter and nods.

Akira presses fingers to his temple. “I expected this of Ryuji, but I thought you were a _bit_ more introspective, Goro.”

“I’m plenty introspective,” Goro shoots back, glancing at Ryuji out of the corner of his eye. Ryuji huffs a sound through his nose that is decidedly _not_ a laugh. “I’m very deep.”

Akira glances between the two of them, and Ryuji can’t keep the smile from cracking across his face. He’s been wandering around with Goro for the better part of the hour, making comments about the pieces that mean absolutely nothing, and even more comments about the critics and students walking around with their self-important little art person scarves on, and it’s the most fun Ryuji has had in weeks. He’d nearly been in tears as Goro ripped some poor girl apart for her choice to wear plaid _and_ leather at the same time, even when she’d accidently overheard and shot them a nasty glare.

“Since you two are so clearly enraptured, I guess it would be unkind of me to pull you away to see Yusuke and I’s display?” Akira asks.

“Lead the way,” Goro says, and Ryuji trots along at his side. As they walk, Ryuji knocks his shoulder into Goro’s and shoots him a grin when he glances Ryuji’s direction. Goro nudges him back. It feels strangely casual, intimate in a way that only comes with people you’re close to. Ryuji smiles to himself.

Akira ushers them towards a large piece that looks, from a distance, like a wall set up in the middle of the room. It must be the back of the piece, or it’s _very_ experimental, considering it’s nothing but blank grey concrete and the ridges and curves that come along with it. Ryuji’s impressed they managed to get that in here in the first place.

Ryuji can see Yusuke standing off to the side of the wall, speaking to a group of young women who have gathered around, hanging off of his every word. Akira sighs, and adjusts his button up where it’s tucked into his tight pants. “Hold on, I’m gonna go make sure my boyfriend doesn’t get picked apart because he’s too busy talking about his own art to realize he’s being flirted with.”

Goro snorts as he wanders off, Akira’s hand thrown out to catch Yusuke by the shoulder as he’s midsentence. Ryuji laughs when Akira leans in and kisses Yusuke’s cheek, and curls around his arm like a housecat. The girls listening to Yusuke suddenly seem much less interested.

Ryuji follows Goro around the side of the display, and whistles. The wall seems to be more of a backdrop than anything—Ryuji can see stark red and white arms protruding from the surface, varying in size and type, pulling at torn canvases with half-finished paintings scattered around them.

“Oh, this is fascinating,” Akechi says, stepping up to the large wall. Ryuji looks at him, fully expecting more deadpan comments about the work, but instead, he finds Akechi looking intrigued, eyes sweeping bright over the exhibition. “This is Akira’s doing?” Akechi asks, stepping closer. He looks like he wants to reach out and touch one of the arms, and Ryuji kind of sees why. They’re startlingly realistic, outfitted with veins and bones and scars.

Ryuji steps up next to him. “Looks like it,” he says. Ryuji watches as a gentle sort of awe settles into Akechi’s face, wholly unique from any other expression he’s seen out of him. It’s genuine and almost childlike, the flimsy mask Akechi wears as he goes about his day breaking for one, beautiful moment. Ryuji is strangely jealous, glancing at the plaque bearing Akira and Yusuke’s name off to the side. Why can they bring out the true Akechi when he can’t?

“Akira and Yusuke usually blow these exhibitions out of the water next to everybody else,” he says, instead of something stupid like _I wish I knew the real you._ “Last year they had their piece hangin’ from the ceiling.”

“Impressive,” Goro says. “I suppose pairing a painter and a sculptor can produce some interesting joint exhibitions.”

“For sure,” Ryuji says. “You like it?”

Goro hums. “I think it’s slightly unsettling, which, you know, art that comforts the disturbed and disturbs the comfortable, and all that.”

Ryuji glances back at the ripped apart paintings, the wild way the fingers are dug into the canvases. “For real.”

They wander some more, down exhibition halls and up towards the level holding some of the smaller sculptures, but nothing quite grabs Goro’s attention the way Yusuke and Akira’s piece had. They chat quietly, and politely, and Ryuji finds a strange impulse to take Goro’s hand every time he stops to comment on a piece.

“Well,” Akechi says, when they circle back to the entrance. “That was certainly more enjoyable than if I’d been on my own.”

“Really?” Ryuji asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I was worried I bored you there, man.”

Akechi laughs quietly. “Of course not. Your company is always interesting to me, Ryuji.”

Ryuji realizes he’s blushing when he catches Akechi’s eye, only to notice the tips of Akechi’s ears turning pink as well. He laughs too loud, glancing off somewhere that’s not Akechi’s face. “Y-y’know,” Ryuji starts, “There’s this crazy good ramen place down the street, if you’re not, like, busy after this. We could get dinner. If you want.”

Goro laughs. “That sounds lovely, Ryuji.”

And hey, maybe Ryuji just needs to take a few pointers from Akira and Yusuke. Lay his heart bare and all that. Comfort the disturbed, and disturb the comfortable.

\--

“Um,” Goro says, very calmly.

“What’s up?” Ryuji asks, sitting sideways on his bike. “You walked, right? It’s kind of far to go by foot.”

Goro glances down at the leather of Ryuji’s seat, and then up at his face. He says, in a very small voice, “I did not know you had a motorcycle.”

Ryuji glances down at his handlebars and tucks his helmet a little further in his side. “I mean, it’s not something I just kinda bring up. Oh!” he puts his hands up. “If you’re uncomfortable though we can totally walk, instead. I know some people get worried about riding these.”

Goro’s mouth snaps shut very quickly. “No, I definitely want to ride it.”

“Oh,” Ryuji says, tilting his head sideways. “Okay! That’s great, hold on, lemme grab my spare helmet.”

He reaches into the compartment at the back of his bike to pull out the spare helmet he keeps for Akira and tosses it Goro’s way. Goro catches it, just barely, and frowns down at the shiny black surface, before tipping it left and then right.

Ryuji breaks out in a laugh. “Hold on,” he says, standing from his seat to step up onto the curb. He plucks the helmet from Goro’s hands and turns it right side up with a flourish, snickering when Goro frowns like he _could_ have figured it out if Ryuji had given him a bit more time. Carefully, he tips Goro’s chin up with a finger and then slides the helmet over his head, knocking against it with his knuckles when it’s sitting correctly.

“Thank you,” Goro says, a little quietly.

Ryuji blinks at him, eyes wide, and realizes that they are standing _very_ close, nearly chest to chest on the sidewalk. He steps back with a nervous laugh. “C-come on,” he says, straddling the front of his seat. “It’ll be like a five-minute ride, tops.”

“You know,” Akechi says, stepping closer as Ryuji starts his bike up with a purr. There are hands on his shoulder as Akechi settles down, and then, suddenly, on his _waist_ , instead. “Some people find motorcycles rather attractive.”

 _Oh_. Ryuji realizes, as the warm line of Akechi’s arms encircling his body presses him close, chest soft against Ryuji’s back. _Oh my god._ “U-um,” Ryuji stutters, suddenly very self-conscious about the fact that he did not think this through at all. “Are you… one of those people?”

Ryuji feels Goro’s contemplative hum in his fucking ribcage. He _did not think this through_. “Why don’t we find out?”

Oh Ryuji is _fucked._

The five-minute ride is five minutes of Ryuji trying to focus on the road as Goro squeezes intermittently at his waist, pressing impossibly closer as they ride. He’s quiet but his presence is _loud_ , as the wind croons around his helmet, cars and buildings blurring as they dive through streets. Ryuji likes his bike because of how easy it feels to ride, but it’s like fucking electricity with Goro at his back, when they pull off from street lights and Goro gasps quietly against his back.

Goro may be taller than him, but he feels tiny like this, just hanging onto Ryuji’s waist as they take turns faster than they probably should, Ryuji _maybe_ trying to show off just in case Goro is in fact one of the people who find motorcycles sexy.

By the time they roll to a stop in front of one of the small ramen places Ryuji frequents, Ryuji is shaking with adrenaline.

He turns to Goro with a smile. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

“Ryuji,” Goro says pointedly. “I cannot tell if that was very fun or very terrifying. I feel like I’m going to have an asthma attack.”

It takes a long moment for either of them to realize they’ve stopped, and Goro slowly unwinds his arms from around Ryuji’s waist, leaning away as he clears his throat.

Ryuji barks out a laugh. “Come on,” he says, with a pat to Akechi’s helmet. “Let’s grab some food.”

\--

Dinner is… nice. Which is kind of weird. Or maybe it isn’t? Or maybe it should be? All Ryuji knows is that by the time he drops Akechi off at his apartment. His face hurts from laughing, and Akechi’s smiles are starting to look less and less fake.

Ryuji bursts into his own apartment with a shout.

He sees Akira’s head pop up over the back of the sofa followed immediately by Yusuke’s, who both look incredibly alarmed that someone has broken in and immediately started screaming.

“I have a problem!” Ryuji declares. Akira looks like he’s shuffling backwards on the couch, Yusuke’s hand flying up to cover his neck. Ryuji pauses. “Were you guys making out?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Ryuji sighs. “I have a problem,” he repeats.

Akira throws his arm over the back of the couch and beckons him closer. “Come tell papa your worries.”

Ryuji makes a face but waddles over anyway, shoving his shoes somewhere he definitely won’t remember to look when he needs them next. He slides over the back of the couch directly between Akira and Yusuke and covers his face with his hands. “That was definitely a date,” he groans.

There’s an arm that winds around his shoulder and pulls him in to a very firm cuddle, and Ryuji knows it’s Yusuke that leans down and rests his head on Ryuji’s shoulder simply because his hair smells _really_ good. “Considering how long you were gone after the exhibition ended, I sure hope it was.”

Yusuke makes a noise of agreement at his side. “Akechi seemed to be enjoying himself with you as well.”

Ryuji groans into his hands again. “We went to dinner.” He pauses. “He rode on the back of my bike.”

“In like… a sexy way?” Akira asks.

Ryuji turns and looks up at his face. “No, dude! In like a _cute_ way. He was all holding my waist ‘n shit—”

“I would think one would have to do that to avoid falling off,” Yusuke notes.

“Well _yeah_ ,” Ryuji whines. “But he was just. I don’t know! He was so warm and he like blushed when I helped him take his helmet off…” he breaks into another loud groan. “I just wanted to fuck with his coffee. How did this happen?”

“Perhaps you should… talk to him?” Yusuke suggests.

Ryuji presses his hands together. “I would rather die.”

Akira sighs. “You are so impossible. Do you want to watch a movie with us?”

Ryuji buries his face in Yusuke’s hair. “A little bit,” he mumbles. “Can it be funny?”

Akira pets at his hair. “It’s Yusuke’s turn to pick.”

“Oh, fuck,” Ryuji groans.

\--

 _Ryuji:_ on a scale of one to ten

 _Ryuji:_ how busy are you right now

 _Goro_ : Probably a nine, why?

 _Ryuji_ : yusuke n akira are kicking my ass in Mario Kart n i wanna play co-op

 _Goro_ : I take it back.

 _Goro_ : What’s your address

\--

“Who the _fuck_ took princess peach?”

Ryuji feels Akechi laughing from where he has his arms thrown over his legs, back against Ryuji and Akira’s ratty old couch. “You snooze you lose, Akira.”

Akira gasps, and whips around from where he’s sat literally inches from the TV. “I play as Peach! That’s not fair, it’s my fucking switch!”

“Dude, you sound like a little kid. And, hey! You know the rules,” Ryuji laughs, sliding the cursor over to select the outline of Dry Bones. “First come, first serve, bro.”

“Babe!” Akira shouts, looking over at where Yusuke is hunched over in one of their chairs.

“You know the rules,” Yusuke says gravely. Ryuji snickers.

“In my own fucking home,” he says, moving the cursor over to select Yoshi. “On my own fucking Switch—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Goro says lightly, a shadow casting over Ryuji’s face as he leans forward. “Put your money where your mouth is, Kurusu. “We are _destroying_ you, Peach or no. Total victory.”

“You’re on,” Akira growls, and moves to the next screen.

\--

“What was that?” Akira shouts, pinning Goro to the couch with one hand. “Huh? Huh? About _total victory_?”

“Fuck off!” Goro snaps, kicking his legs wildly. Both Yusuke and Ryuji are safely on the other side of the room, playing a round of singles by themselves as Wario and Waluigi.

“I let you have Peach, and this is what you do with her? You can’t even get the princess on the podium!”

“I’m sorry,” Ryuji hears, as he collects a few green shells. “Did a fucking _Yoshi main_ say something to me? Why don’t you go play fucking _Wii Tennis_ you degenerate—”

“Are they gonna be good?” Ryuji whispers, leaning over towards Yusuke.

“They’ll be fine,” Yusuke says evenly, and chuckles as Waluigi slips on a banana. “I think they needed this.”

\--

Akechi begrudgingly agrees to get dinner with them after Akira and Yusuke beat them easily in several grueling rounds of Mario Kart. Akira is smug as all hell as they walk from his and Ryuji’s apartment to the small family-owned place down the street, sticking his tongue out as Goro pointedly ignores whatever he says.

“It’s a video game,” Goro sniffs, as they sit down at a table. He’s sitting with Ryuji, hands folded primly in his lap. “I have actual _valuable_ skills.”

“You talk big for someone who doesn’t consider gaming a _valuable_ skill, Goro. Just admit you lost and move on.”

Goro pouts, and Ryuji is _ridiculously_ endeared. He was already dealing with a bleeding heart, watching Goro get along with Akira and Yusuke as well as he did (or, as well as he seems to be able to) but taking in his pout and the shine of his eyes is really just too much for him. Without looking his way, Ryuji reaches under the table and takes one of Goro’s hands, not looking at the confused gaze that surely gets shot his way.

“Akira said you guys were taking a break to come hang out,” Ryuji says, trying to change the topic. “Another exhibition?”

“Maybe,” Akira says, flagging down a waitress. He orders some fruity monstrosity Ryuji is kind of interested in tasting, and Yusuke orders something that literally sounds like it shouldn’t be on the menu. Goro gets water. Ryuji kind of wants to order him a coffee. “We’ve been looking for a way to set up our own gallery now that we’ve got some commission money to blow but,” he shrugs. “It’s kind of harder than we thought it would be.”

Ryuji forgets that Akechi’s hand is in his before he feels it squeeze, and he glances over to see Akechi’s face red, very resolutely not looking at him. “I can help you, if you’d like,” he says.

Akira and Yusuke exchange a confused glance. “You can?” Yusuke asks.

Akechi nods. “I’ve got a few connections in the art world from my job. I’ve had people ask me to review their galleries and such on my social media for exposure.” He frowns. “It’s frighteningly difficult to make genuine friends when you’re a known personality.”

“That sucks,” Ryuji sighs, leaning forward onto his free hand.

“It does,” Goro says with a shrug. “But I know a few people that own galleries. I can have them reach out to you. And I can promote it after it’s opened if you would like.”

Yusuke and Akira share a look that Ryuji can’t read into, some kind of couple’s telepathy thing. He’s always been jealous that Yusuke and Akira can communicate without speaking, but he strokes his thumb over Akechi’s under the table and finds that he doesn’t much mind it anymore.

“Why are you helping us?” Akira asks slowly, turning back to look at Akechi. “We’re not the best of friends, or anything.”

Akechi shrugs. “You’re the closest I’ve got. Plus,” his face flushes a deeper red. “I, um. Enjoyed your art, the other day. I’d hate to see it fade into obscurity when I could have done something about it. You two seem... special.”

“That’s very nice,” Yusuke says, his mouth curling into a sweet grin. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Akechi mumbles, dropping his head.

Ryuji squeezes his hand again, and realizes that he really, _really_ wants to kiss Akechi. It’s almost startling until he realizes it’s not, until he sees how _he’s_ the one that’s pulled Akechi into his life head first, and he hadn’t even realized it. He’s holding his hand under the table, and watches as Akira reaches out under the table and kicks Akechi’s leg with a laugh, and even as the strangely intimate atmosphere fades away, Ryuji still feels horribly, overwhelmingly in love.

He squeezes Akechi’s hand, and grins when he squeezes back.

\--

Ryuji doesn’t even realize Akechi very rarely comes by Leblanc anymore, because he’s talking to him every day anyway. Usually, it’s just a quick text message, a _good morning_ , or a _how was your day_ , or an _I saw you on TV, you look stupid as always_. But Ryuji is kind of itching to give Akechi another cup of coffee, because he still feels like as much as he’s come to know Akechi, he’s still not comfortable enough to tell Ryuji off for his coffee making skills. And that, for some reason, bothers him.

Akira still thinks the idea is stupid. Yusuke, curiously, has no thoughts about it. They are both still begging that Ryuji get his shit together and make a move, but he feels like they don’t know just how _terrifying_ that is.

Late one evening, as Ryuji is wiping down the machines as he’s working towards closing by himself, the door chimes about ten minutes before closing.

“Sorry!” Ryuji calls, head underneath the counter. “We’re closing up real soon, is there anything I can—”

“Ah, I didn’t realize it was that late.”

Ryuji slams a hand on the counter to push himself into standing at lightning fucking speed. “Akechi!” he says brightly.

“Good afternoon… er, evening,” Goro says. He’s still standing in the doorway, wearing a light sweater and stark black gloves. He’s missing his briefcase for once, noticeably empty handed as he shuffles back and forth on his feet. His laugh sounds airy, and exhausted. “I kind of got caught up with work.”

“You look like it,” Ryuji says, and then winces. “I mean! You look good, like you always look good, but you just seem kind of… frazzled.”

“’Frazzled’ would be correct,” Goro sighs, walking towards the counter to run a hand through his hair. “It’s been… a day. I was hoping to come see you and take the edge off.”

“Aw, ‘kechi. Quit, you’re gonna make me think you like me.”

Goro’s mouth quirks up at the edges. “Yes, wouldn’t that be a shame.”

Ryuji glances at the machines he’s already wiped down, and all of the materials he and Akira had packed away before Akira bolted early. “I’ve got to shut down for the night but,” he glances at Akechi again. “I’ve got coffee at home? If you wanna come hang out. Akira is spending the weekend at Yusuke’s for their anniversary or whatever, so I’ve got the place to myself. And Mona.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Nah, man!” Ryuji chirps. He shoves his hands in his pockets and gives Akechi what he hopes is a comforting smile. “I wanted to hang out with you anyway. I like you, dude!”

That, somehow, is the thing that makes Akechi’s face turn red, sinking back into his sweater. “I do like spending time with you as well,” he murmurs, face pink.

Ryuji’s grin spreads wider. He gestures behind him with a thumb. “I’ve got to clean a few more dishes and shove some shit in the fridge and we can get out of here. You cool with riding my bike again?”

“Of course,” he hears Akechi say, as he starts to move into the kitchen. “It’s much more enjoyable than riding the subway.”

Ryuji laughs. “Yeah, those things are always way too crowded.”

“Oh, that’s not why I enjoy it.”

Jesus Christ. Ryuji presses his hands to his face to cool his cheeks off. He’s glad it’s getting cooler outside because his hands are soothing against the flaming surface of his cheeks. Akechi is going to _kill_ him.

He scrubs down some plates at record speed and shoves some leftover rice into the refrigerator somewhere it absolutely doesn’t belong, before slides back out of the kitchen to Akechi sitting in the booth by the door, scrolling through his phone.

“Ready to go?” Ryuji asks. He sends Ryuji a wordless thumbs up and slips out of the door.

Akechi stands behind him and huffs into his hands as Ryuji locks the entrance, pocketing his keys with a little pat. When he turns around, Akechi is shivering, his hands pressed to the sides of his neck.

“Here,” Ryuji says, slipping off his jacket to pull his sweatshirt over his head. Akechi is sufficiently wide eyed as Ryuji hands it over.

“D-don’t you n-need that?”

Ryuji huffs a laugh through his nose. “Dude, your teeth are chattering. Plus, the leather is warm enough on its own, it’s just way too warm to wear around Leblanc.” He shoves his sweatshirt into Akechi’s arms. “The ride’s gonna be colder than you are just standing around, man. Trust me.”

Akechi nods, still trembling slightly, and pulls the sweatshirt over his head, ruffling his hair adorably. Ryuji, on his part, was fully unprepared for how his already too large jacket swallows Akechi whole, the deep purple very different from the washed out neutral colors Akechi usually wears. Akechi just looks doe eyed and a bit warmer, standing there in Ryuji’s jacket, and Ryuji has to tug his helmet on fast before Akechi sees the dopey smile winding onto his face.

“Do you need help with the helmet?” Ryuji asks, just because he really hopes Akechi says yes.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Akechi says quietly, and Ryuji swings around on the bike. He slides the helmet over Akechi’s face and watches as his eyes slide shut before it passes over his eyes, the light color of his eyelashes catching on the last dregs of sunlight. He really is beautiful, with his soft face and his full lips. Ryuji holds his hands against Akechi’s shoulders just to look at him, even when the helmet is properly fitted.

“Hmph. Pretty boy,” He says affectionately, with a smack to the top of the helmet. Akechi sputters as Ryuji climbs on his bike, hopefully avoiding letting Akechi see his very red face.

“Delinquent,” Akechi mumbles, legs falling around Ryuji’s on the sides of his bike. He wraps his arms around Ryuji’s waist, and Ryuji gives on solid rev in warning before he takes off down the road.

Akechi holds him tight the whole way, warm against Ryuji’s back, and he feels gross and gooey with affection. He _really_ likes Akechi he realizes, more than he’d intended before he’d come up with some stupid scheme to fuck with the guy he thought was just a perfect celebrity and a too nice pushover. Akechi’s got personality for days, and Ryuji kind of feels bad for the weeks he put increasingly insane ingredients into Akechi’s coffee in an effort to goad him into snapping.

Ryuji parks in his spot outside of his apartment, turning the engine off with a jingle of his keys.

“Akechi?” Ryuji asks gently, jostling where Akechi’s head is laid out on his shoulder. “Goro? You good?”

“’m fine,” Akechi says sleepily, sitting up slowly. Ryuji glances over his shoulder and then whips back around, the image of Akechi rubbing sleepily at his eyes turning his heart into mush. He is a weak, weak man. “We didn’t die, right?” he asks around a yawn.

“We didn’t die,” Ryuji assures, setting his bike up and sliding off of the seat. He reaches a hand out and watches as Akechi presses his palms to his, sliding off of Ryuji’s bike. “Did you fall asleep?”

Akechi shakes his head, waiting as Ryuji pulls his helmet off of his head and tucks it into the spare compartment of his bike. “I don’t think I could have without, ah, falling off. I probably would have, if not for that.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?” Ryuji asks, trying desperately not to comment on how cute Akechi looks with mussed up helmet hair and heavy, sleepy eyes. _Still_ wearing Ryuji’s sweatshirt. “I really don’t mind. I get if you’re tired.”

“I wanted to see you,” Goro pouts. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No,” Ryuji laughs, reaching out to take Akechi by the arm. God, does _everything_ Akechi does have to be adorable? “Come on, let’s get some coffee in you.”

Akechi hums. “Yes, please.”

Akechi holds his arm as they climb the stairs to Ryuji’s apartment, and Ryuji bites his tongue twice trying not to mention offhandedly how cute he looks half asleep and bundled up in Ryuji’s sweatshirt. Jesus, he’s going to have to stop ribbing on Akira for cooing at his boyfriend so often when Ryuji nearly does the same to the guy he’s not even _dating_.

“Nice place,” Akechi says, sliding his shoes off at the front door.

Ryuji moves into the kitchen and pulls out the instant coffee Akira always tries to throw out, setting it down on the counter. “You’ve been here before, doofus. And that’s mostly ‘cause of Akira,” Ryuji calls back. “His art stuff makes way more bank than our jobs at Leblanc combined.”

“Hmm,” Akechi says, coming to lean against the isle in the kitchen. “So, you’re a freeloader?”

Ryuji sputters. “Dude! I pay rent.” Akechi raises an eyebrow. “Like… every now and then.”

Akechi leans over the isle on his elbows. “Free loader,” he says gently.

Ryuji reaches down to flick him on the nose. He gets the coffee started and pulls two mugs out of the cabinets over the stove, one shaped like a skull (a Christmas gift from Akira) and one like a cat (a Christmas gift _to_ Akira) and finds himself at a crossroads.

So, he can admit to himself that he likes Akechi now. He can admit that the whole ‘serve him shitty coffee’ thing was just an excuse to cover up how excited he was to see Akechi when he managed to swing by Leblanc. But he also kind of knows… he still hasn’t reached the end of his little experiment. He glances over his shoulder at where Akechi is watching him quietly, eyes soft in the low light of the kitchen, still tucked into Ryuji’s purple hoodie even though the apartment is plenty warm. Ryuji knows he could probably use a break. Aw, hell.

Ryuji slides him a cat mug of very regular coffee.

He hops up on the counter next to Akechi, swinging his feet gently as he takes a sip out of his own mug. He’s still not big on coffee, but it’s certainly growing on him.

He’s mid sip when Akechi makes a noise in his throat, and turns sideways so that he can see Ryuji. “I can’t drink this,” he croaks. Ryuji pauses and blinks down at him, taking in the guilty look in Akechi’s eyes, the way he’s just holding the mug at arm’s length. “Ryuji,” Akechi rushes out. “I really like you, I _do_ , and I feel like you know this already, but I physically cannot put myself through drinking more of your coffee just because you’re cute. It’s going to kill me.”

Ryuji meets his eyes, glances down at the cat mug, and bursts out laughing. He doesn’t even have to see Akechi to know he looks bewildered, especially considering the panicked noises he’s making as Ryuji snorts and coughs through his laugh, desperately trying to pull in air. “Akechi,” he wheezes, lifts his mug up to set it very carefully on the counter. “ _Akechi_.”

“Why are you laughing?” Goro says, half in concern. “Ryuji, quit—hey!”

“I’m so sorry,” Ryuji wheezes, still trying to catch his breath. “Dude, I—” he peels off into another fit of laughter. He reaches over and pulls Akechi towards him, slotting him between where Ryuji’s legs are dangling off of the counter. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing as he squishes Akechi’s face into a pout, and presses a feather light kiss to his mouth. Akechi’s eyes widen, and Ryuji smiles so wide it’s difficult to see him. “I _may_ have been messing with you there.”

Akechi makes a noise like he wants to say something, before his mouth snaps shut and his eyes narrow. “You what.”

“I, um,” Ryuji laughs, and then takes a deep, steadying breath. “That first time, when you came into Leblanc. _That_ was an accident, but then you never really said anything and it just kind of—”

He feels the hands on his legs squeeze. “You poisoned me.” Akechi says, deathly calm.

Ryuji presses his lips together. “Poisoned is very strong, I—ah!” He yelps when Akechi drags him down by the back of the neck.

“Do you know how much _salty_ coffee you have made me drink? You gave me a liquid once that tasted almost exactly like garlic bread. And you never stopped because I was too _nice_ to say anything about it?” Akechi looks fucking furious, and Ryuji finds that it is quite possibly the hottest expression he can possibly make. “Ryuji,” Akechi demands angrily, and a hand curls just at the edge of Ryuji’s neck that makes him honest to god _whimper_.

Akechi’s eyes flash with something near unrecognizable, before they settle hard and cold again, an amused sneer winding onto his face. “You did this on purpose, huh? Trying to rile me up.” Akechi squeezes so hard on Ryuji’s leg that it hurts, and Ryuji’s eyes slide closed almost of their own accord. “You _like_ me like this,” he says lowly.

“I wasn’t really planning on… I mean,” he tugs his lip between his teeth. “I don’t _not_ like you like this.”

“Fucking pathetic,” Akechi spits, and Ryuji’s fingers bunch tight in Akechi’s shirt, a shiver racking through his body. Akechi has opened up a bit, sure, but he’s never sounded this icy and sharp, and it’s unfortunately doing things to his dick that would _probably_ not make Akechi happier.

“To be fair,” Ryuji gasps, when Goro digs his nails into the sensitive skin of his neck. “I like _all_ of you, but I definitely wanted to see this. You’ve been holding back on me, Goro.”

“Shut up,” Akechi snaps, and Ryuji’s mouth instantly, his eyes opening hazily to watch Akechi drag his gaze up Ryuji’s body again. He feels like fucking jelly, and it would almost be strange if it was anyone else, but Akechi keeps him pinned in place with his hands as anchors and his teeth sharp under his lips. Goro’s hand crawls higher up his thigh, creeping closer to Ryuji’s embarrassing hardon, and it makes him groan quietly. “You never fail to surprise me, Ryuji,” he says brightly, but it’s sickly sweet, dripping with contempt. It makes Ryuji fucking _burn_. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

“Wanna shove your dick down my throat?” Ryuji rasps.

Akechi blinks at him once, before his whole face winds cruelly into glee. “Oh, doesn’t _that_ sound nice.”

Ryuji can’t slide to his knees fast enough, bumping his thighs on the sharp edge of the counter and hissing as he goes down. Goro threads fingers through his hair and Ryuji _purrs_.

“What, are you waiting on instructions?” Goro laughs. He shoves Ryuji face first against his dick straining through his slacks and Ryuji feels his eyes roll back in his head, hands coming up to grip uselessly at Goro’s hips. He growls, “Get to it.”

Ryuji feels like a ticking time bomb as he slides a hand over to unzip Goro’s pants, only to have his hair yanked back sharply. “Did I say you could use your hands?”

“ _No_ ,” Ryuji breathes, and swallows around the lump in his throat. _Fuck_ , he’s not usually this submissive, but the dark tone of Akechi’s voice is turning him on beyond belief, and Ryuji fucking _hopes_ he keeps this up if they hook up again. _When_ they hook up again, goddamn it. He is not giving this up anytime soon.

Following instructions, he noses into Goro’s pants and tugs at the little silver clasp with his teeth, until he can grab the edge of Goro’s zipper and ease it down.

“Look at you on your knees,” Goro purrs. “Desperate and dripping.”

“ _Ngh ’_ kechi,” Ryuji says from behind clenched teeth, trying to wriggle Goro’s pants down without using his hands.

“Who taught you to use this _filthy_ mouth?” Goro asks, and Ryuji feels a hand leave his hand, slide down his neck and over his shoulder. He’s almost surprised when Goro peels his bottom lip away from his teeth, before pushing two fingers in his mouth. Ryuji can’t help his moan, the way he licks at the soft pads of his fingers. Goro slicks up his fingers on the inside of Ryuji’s mouth, and pushes his fingers down his throat on a slick glide. “You play petty games and get on your knees when asked. Don’t you think you’re just a little. Too. Easy.”

Ryuji can’t help it, he grabs Goro’s pants and pulls them down as far as they’ll go, mouth watering when Goro’s cock bobs free into the air. He’s barely surprised when Goro slips the fingers out of his mouth and fists them in the front of his hair. “ _Bad_ boy, Ryuji. No hands.”

“’m gonna suck you off so good,” Ryuji slurs, trying to push forward to slide his lips around Goro’s cockhead.

“Ryuji,” Goro says evenly.

Ryuji glances up through his eyelashes so that he can see Goro’s face, blinking some of the fog from his eyes. Desperately, he tries to strain forward again, but Goro holds him completely still, and Ryuji whines because his dick is _right there_ and beading precum so wet it’s dripping onto his kitchen floor. “ _Ryuji,”_ Goro says again, firmer.

“Come on,” Ryuji groans. He sticks his tongue out, just enough to lick the head of Goro’s cock, and it’s enough to have him shivering, biting down on his lip like he’s trying to maintain _some_ control.

“Open your mouth,” Goro says quietly, a hand reaching down to fist over his cock. Ryuji can’t get his mouth open fast enough, tongue out and wet where Goro can see it. “ _Fuck_ , you’re hot.” He stokes his cock some more and Ryuji shakes, hands flexing on Goro’s thighs as his dick twitches in his pants. “Why can’t you just make me normal coffee when you look this good?”

He drags his cock just over the pink tip of Ryuji’s tongue and Ryuji’s eyelashes flutter, barely registering the bitter taste of his precum. He wants Goro in his mouth and his throat, but he waits, lets Goro paint his tongue and his lips sticky, a hand still tight enough in his head that he can’t move. “Say please,” Goro rasps.

“Fuck me,” Ryuji groans instead, and it’s enough to get Goro to tug his face forward so that Ryuji can feel the delicious weight of Goro’s dick on his tongue as he slides down his throat.

“ _Yes,_ Ryuji, that’s it,” Goro sighs. Ryuji moans around his dick and slides his tongue along the underside of his cock, feeling stretched and full and sore. “Don’t touch yourself,” he says firmly, but it’s so _soft_ , and Ryuji can’t help the way he tries to gag himself on Goro’s cock further, whining when his hair gets tugged. “Are you going to let me come like this? Right down that pretty little throat of yours?”

It’s all Ryuji can do to nod, his hips twitching like he’s trying to rut against something, _anything_. Goro pushes his head against the side of the island and holds him there, his throat flexing uselessly as Goro slides all the way into his mouth, until his hips are pressing Ryuji back against the counter. “You can’t run your mouth like this,” Goro says happily, reaching down to press his thumb around where Ryuji’s lips are stretched obscenely, spit coating the pink of his lips. “Come on, tell me something funny.”

Instead, Ryuji exhales though his nose and pulls Goro _deeper_. He’s barely got a second to groan before Ryuji is pulling him out and back in, and Goro growls, pushes a hand through Ryuji’s hair and fucks his throat like Ryuji _wanted_.

“Y-yes, oh, _yes_ , _Ryuji_ , fuck, just like that.” Ryuji groans and lets himself be used, lets Goro snap his hips and pull his hair until the pressure coiling in his dick is fucking unbearable, and his hands twitch down towards his lap unthinkingly.

“Don’t— _mgnh!_ Don’t you fucking _dare_ touch yourself until I come, Ryuji Sakamoto. Just, _ah_ , just like that.”

Ryuji gurgles something as Goro whines and fucks his throat harder, Ryuji’s head knocking gently and rhythmically against the flat wall behind him.

“I’m gonna, _fuck_ , Ryuji, I’m gonna come, fuckin— _hah_ —”

Ryuji digs his fingers into Goro’s hips as he comes with a whine, keeping his hips flush against Ryuji’s face as his throat works around Goro’s come, eyes watering even as Goro pulls out. There’s no come in his mouth considering Goro had his dick so deep it all went _down his throat_ , but Ryuji is still surprised when Goro ducks down and kisses him hard, hands braced above Ryuji’s head on the lip of the counter.

“Fuck,” Ryuji groans, when Akechi pulls away. “I didn’t know my shitty coffee would do _that_.”

“It _won’t_ ,” Akechi says hotly.

He kisses Ryuji again, softer this time, the heat of his mouth less insistent but just as intense, and Ryuji is happy to reach up and _finally_ thread his fingers in the soft strands of Goro’s hair, licking into his mouth. “I swear to god,” he gasps, when Goro pulls away. “I will literally make you the best fucking coffee in the world if you let me fuck you.”

Akechi lifts and eyebrow but reaches up and moves some of Ryuji’s hair off of his forehead. “Who said I wanted to bottom?”

Ryuji leans up and nips at the underside of his jaw. “Educated guess?”

“Hm…” Goro says, letting Ryuji suck marks into his skin. “I thought I was the detective here.”

Ryuji laughs and lets Goro pull him into standing, before he takes Goro by the hand and pulls him towards his bedroom.

\--

“Ryuji?” Goro says against his chest.

“Yeah?” Ryuji asks, speaking quietly. He doesn’t really have to, since Akira isn’t home, but he feels like he should, when Goro is laying sated and sweet against his chest, tracing slow circles around his bare nipple.

“I have decided I no longer like you,” Akechi declares.

Ryuji laughs and strokes at some of his sweaty hair, shifting his leg so that Goro’s weight isn’t so much on his hip. “Is this still about the coffee thing?”

“Yes, this is about the coffee thing.” Goro hisses. He bats at Ryuji’s hand when he reaches down to angle his face into a kiss. “Stop that. I no longer want you to be my boyfriend. You are my mortal enemy.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryuji offers, tangling his fingers in the back of Goro’s hair. “I will make you free, normal tasting coffee anytime you come by Leblanc from here on out.” Goro makes a noncommittal noise. Ryuji can’t quite keep the smile out of his voice when he adds, “You wanted me to be your boyfriend?”

“Ugh,” Goro sighs. He presses his cheek back to Ryuji’s chest and grumbles. “…I still do. But I haven’t forgiven you for this, not by a long shot, young man. I want my free coffee, and I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“May I make one request?” Ryuji asks, tilting his face down to get a better look at Goro.

“What?” Goro asks evenly.

Ryuji takes in the slope of his nose in the fast fading light, the color to his cheeks, the splay of his hair. “Can you keep wearing my hoodies?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Goro mutters, leaning up to catch Ryuji’s mouth in a coffee flavored kiss.

\--

“So, you guys are like… good now, right?”

“Yes,” Goro says, with an eye roll, as Ryuji leans over and presses an Akira-grade embarrassing kiss to his cheek. “Ryuji never gets to make coffee for me ever again, though.”

“I make great coffee!” Ryuji protests. “I was doing it on purpose.”

“Shouldn’t you _avoid_ reminding him of that?” Yusuke asks, knocking his feet into the backs of the counter.

“Whatever!” Ryuji says loudly. “The point is that Goro likes me very much and is very happy we’re dating.”

“I suppose,” Goro sighs, leaning over Yusuke’s shoulder as he scrolls through the list of contacts he’s made for him and Akira to look at. “Not her,” he says, with a point to what Ryuji assumes must be a name. “She’s weird about young men.”

“Even those already in committed relationships?”

Goro shivers. “ _Especially_ those.”

Yusuke highlights the name with a hum. “We’ll certainly keep that in mind.”

“ _Ugh,_ god.” Ryuji sighs, glancing at the door to Leblanc and back at Akira. “We can go home early, right? I’m itching to get out of here.”

“Let me text Sojiro,” Akira sighs, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone.

Ryuji whoops, and leans across the counter to take Goro’s hand. “Hey,” he says with a smile, watching as Goro’s face softens affectionately. “Come play Mario Kart with us.”

“He comes only if I get to be peach,” Akira says, with a very pointed look at Goro.

Ryuji presses Goro’s hand together with a pout. Goro squints. “No.”

“Okay,” he amends, when Ryuji kisses his cheek. “Fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh? What's this? A series? Hmm... I wonder why that's there *wink*
> 
> But yeah! I wrote out a follow up fic for this (if you couldn't smell the Akira/Ryuji/Yusuke/Goro hints I was dropping) that'll go up /later/ in the week, so like. Give me two days or so because I can't control myself. Come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tobi_yos)!


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